Helen Hickey

(Published in the Malay Mail 23 December 2013) It’s that time of the year when the Santa hats come out… and everyone is ready to party. How have I reached this level of madness? Everyday, starting from late November, the Christmas-to-do-list raps on my door with yet another chore. Fill advent calendar! Send Christmas cards! Buy tree! Buy presents; buy more presents; wrap presents; post presents! Christmas work parties! School Santa parties! Today, I spent the entire morning a

(Published in The Malay Mail on 6 February 2014) I don’t know if you have been following the ‘quenelle’ row here in France and, more recently, in Britain. Take a look at the front page of tabloid Le Parisien from last Wednesday (above). That’s the ‘quenelle’ being performed by a protestor in a recent anti-government demonstration in Paris. It’s almost a reverse Nazi salute, or, as my seven-year-old son innocently pointed out, like the “Hail Caesar” salute the Romans use in hi

(Published in The Malay Mail 25 January 2014) It’s been a tough January in my household, but not as tough as the behind-the-scenes discussions at the Élysée Palace, home to France’s most unpopular leader ever, President François Hollande. Our worries — hubby about to become jobless combined with a house move — have nothing compared to what’s on Mr Hollande’s plate. The French public are scrambling to understand the consequences of Mr Hollande’s astonishing U-turns in his pers

(Published in The Malay Mail on 23 March 2014) I’ve become quite incensed by the heavy criticism of Malaysia’s handling of the ill-fated Flight MH370. The international media, without exception, have thrown all manner of insults at Malaysia following the disappearance of its Boeing 777 plane, the latest being a patronizing request for it to hand over the investigation to another more competent authority. Information not timely enough; confusing and contradictory press briefin

(Published in The Malay Mail on 26 November 2013) Roman god Mercury wearing his wing-tipped helmet and a come-hither created by Pierre et Gilles (aka Mr Tuesday) at Musée d’Orsay, Paris. Male nudity. There I’ve said it. Have you ever wondered why us ladies don’t talk about it more openly? It’s not that we don’t see naked men, husbands, boyfriends, strippers at hen parties, but we’ve a long way to go before we enjoy Mr Tuesday over our morning cuppa. Female nudity, on the othe

(Published in The Malay Mail on 13 December 2013) Lifting the lid on Parisian peculiarities was hatched by Olivier Giraud while working in America, where he honed both his impeccable Anglais and appreciation of cultural differences across the pond. Olivier Giraud was told on countless occasions that Paris wasn’t ready for his one-man show “How to become Parisian in one hour?”. But the aspiring comedian was not one to back away from a challenge. Four years on, the 35-year-old

(Published in The Malay Mail on 14 October 2013) I’ve been religiously tracking the reports on the US shutdown over the past week: how will this major showdown between those Republican fruit loops and President Obama play out? The drama, the stakes, the egos. It’s like a reading a book whose tale is so captivating you can’t help but flip to the end pages to find out “whodunit” and how the plot concludes. Will the US go into default this week, spinning world markets into turmo

(Published in The Malay Mail on 25 October 2013) Dear President Obama, Now that the dust has settled, I just wanted to personally drop you a line to offer my heartfelt congratulations. The federal government reopened late last week, the US didn’t default on its debt, your health care reforms were left intact with minor adjustments only and the world breathed a collective sigh of relief. “Good job!” as they say in America. Those Tea Party Republicans really did think you’d cav

(Published in The Malay Mail on 18 November 2013) A photo of the pepper-pot towers greets me each morning as I wait for the kettle to boil. It reminds me of what I’ve been missing these last three years. It was high time I saw the real deal again, and in a recent “boleh” moment I booked a flight back to land of Selamat Datangs. The departure was executed with military precision: the kids deposited with grandparents in the UK; a cat sitter installed in Paris and the hubby orde

(Published in The Malay Mail on 12 March 2014) The obituary of 91-year-old Ms. Mavis Gallant, who died in her home in Paris a couple of weeks ago, struck a cord with me. Gallant wrote passionately about “uprooted lives and loss”, making frequent reference to the personal histories of expatriates who left their home countries in search of a better life, but had come to feel lost or isolated in the process. The New Yorker magazine published all 116 of her short stories over the